BROTHERS: Autobot Academy
by Scarlet Thorrn
Summary: G1AU: To tell you my story. . .our, story, to catch you up to where I am now, sitting alone under the rain, I have to go back. . .all the way back. Back before the deaths. Back before the training. Back before the war was even a thought. Back before we were drafted into this hell-school. Back before we were "normal". All the way back to the start. When my brother showed up.


**BROTHERS:**

**Autobot Academy**

Or,

The Teacher's Demonic and Angelic Brothers of Secret Service Spy School: Special Ability Sector

**A new, incredibly random story that came out of the clinically weird sector of my brain. Huh. Well, truth is I've been having writers block, and am busy, so naturally I have no idea where in the f*** this came from. I needed something new to scribble down, and Harry Potter (Hogworts) was, for some reason, at the for front of my thoughts. (Yeah, okay it was a weird day :X) Never having written anything for the fandom I turned a different Transformers idea I had about a young Mirage having too much fun with his inadvisability tech, (the inadvisability cloak :P) into this.**

**Now. Enough chit chat cuz there is nothing I can say to exuse this... It's...I mean, it's...odd. And very...humanized, in a way. Societal wise. You'll see.**

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

_What you need to know~_

**Care-care, (Carrier, **or** Mother) **is the same as **Mama. **

**Si-si, (Sire, **or** Father) **is the same as **Papa, or Daddy.**

_**With the billion siblings I have, I have no idea what it could possibly be like to be an only child. However, I tried my best, and you must understand that for this story, Mirage is seriously biest on most things. I tried so that you see the world through his eyes. **_

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

**BROTHERS:**

**Autobot Academy **

Or,

The Teacher's Demonic and Angelic Brothers of Secret Service Spy School: Special Ability Sector

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

**Prologue: **In the Journal of Me -

_1. A Baby Boy at Our Doorstep,_

_2. Growing up an Angel with a Demon for a Brother,_

_3. Acceptance into Secret Service Spy School: Special Ability Sector_

* * *

**Prologue: **

_**In the Journal of Me **_

_**- Mirage**_

1.

_A Baby Boy at Our Doorstep _

_November 12th, Era 8: 26,891. . . Yougling: 5_

I remember the rain, pouring so fast it flooded the icy streets. I remember the fire, bright and alive, roaring in the fireplace. I remember care-care, snapping sweet-crystals for dessert. I remember everything about that day. Because it was the day _he _showed up.

The doorbell rang, carrier went to answer it. Bored with watching the acid rain leak horribly fast from the grayed-out sky, I fallowed her, calling, "Care-care?" questioningly when she froze in the doorway. The door held wide open, the frosty tips of icy cool acid were shoveling in. "Care-care!" I shrieked when some blew in my face. I heard si-si come to investigate, but he too froze at our doorstep. I wondered what was so interesting, so I took slow steps over.

Now I wish I hadn't.

Now I wish I'd shoved my creators, tossed the basket out into the washing rain, and slammed the door in the toddler's face!

For, huddled in soaking blankets, curled up in basket, was my (now) little brother. Skywarp.

I gaped at him from beside by carrier. Not because I'd never seen a sparkling before, but because he had _wings_. Wings! Not doorwings, or decorative winglets, but real wings, meant for flight. Meant. . .for fliers. The sparkling was a Seeker. And I knew instantly he didn't belong here, a very, very bad feeling in my tank.

But I had no words.

Care-care and si-si acted too quickly, they scooped him and his tiny basket up, rushed him to the fire, and care-care tried desperately to warm him as si-si ran for the phone to call doctor Ratchet, a friend of ours. The tiny toddler had nothing on him but a note with a name: _Skywarp._ I was very suspicious of this sparkling, my bad feeling only getting worse and worse, but care-care didn't notice my ridged stance and worried stare. Skywarp wasn't crying. He wasn't squealing or squeaking, (which I was happy about) no! He wasn't moving at all.

Doctor Ratchet came bursting through the door! Care-care was frantic, a dreading look on her faceplate. She thought Skywarp was dead. At the time I didn't think it, but now I wish he was. Doctor Ratchet lifted Skywarp up, but I was ushered out the door by my sire, so I don't know what happened next.

An eternity later, the good doctor still hadn't left yet, and my creators were speaking softly. I crept up behind the door and listened. I didn't like what I heard.

"But where could he go?"

"We can't keep him, Phoenix..."

"No one would take him!"

"You don't know that..."

"We can't send him back to Vos, and if we handed him over to the officials, what would they do to him? He's a Seeker, Cyrus! A Seeker! They might as well toss him in the pit without a second thought! And nobody wants one around here!"

"But we know nothing about him!"

"We can't abandon him!"

I was confused. I didn't like this Seeker. Was care-care really thinking of keeping him?

"Both of you, both of you, calm down!" Doctor Ratchet spoke up, and then I could hear no more for they talked too softly.

Frustrated that I had been forgotten, and that my lovely home was being invaded by an alien, I stomped up to berth. I tucked myself in, because care-care was "busy," and went to recharge with a funny feeling in my tank.

Next morning, when I woke, bright and early, I rushed down stairs to see what had transpired the night before. Of course the young Doctor Ratchet was gone, but my creators were up, both of them. That was odd. And they were smiling, looking like they had actually slept the past night. That was a red flag, and a double-weird. Si-si was never up this early, not unless he had a meeting at work or had stayed up all last night.

In both instances him being very grumpy.

But not today. He had slept, and he looked happy. A little relieved, almost.

I knew something was wrong. . .

And I was right.

Care-care had stepped through the door without so much of a glance at me, and si-si was sitting at the kitchen table when finally I was noticed. I yawned, hungry, still a little sleepy from just getting out of berth. Smiling brightly, he said nothing, merely standing and motioning me to fallow him. I did, to the living room, where care-care sat in her rocking chair; the one she always sat with me on her lap to tell bed-time stories.

But it wasn't me sitting there.

It was the baby.

"Mirage!" she said, obviously very happy. "Come meet your new little brother," she turned him around in her lap, and moved the bottle from his puckered lips to properly show him off, "Skywarp."

. . .A brother?

I was so confused, I couldn't move. A brother. I had a brother. . . It just didn't make any sense. Brothers didn't come like that. They didn't just show up at your doorstep and instantly be part of your family. Nu-uh. No way! I couldn't have a brother that was that. . .freak.

Skywarp was a freak. He _is _a freak. He has wings; not tiers. He flies; not drives. He's loud, stupid, and annoying.

I didn't know all this back then, but starring into those sickeningly red eyes, I knew my creators were making, the, biggest, mistake, _ever_.

Skywarp looked at me, and giggled. Like I was funny-looking or something! Revolted that such an odd creature could think me _weird, _I glared hurtfully at him. I knew then and there that he was an idiot because he only laughed more.

On the verge of demanding my creators get rid of him _immediately, _I only paused when I saw them smiling joyously at him. Smiling! They, were, _happy_. They. . .they- _liked_ him! I knew something wasn't right, that he was trouble, I just knew it! But they didn't see or, or. . .or maybe they didn't care.

I saw it in their optics.

They had fallen in love with him.

Angry, I stomped away! I through on a jacket and rushed outside into the cold, quickly walking down my street to Hound's: My best friend's place. He had two brothers, and a sister, he'd know what to do.

I guess being an only child made the idea of a sibling impossible to me. There was just something wrong. Sparkling's are hard, and cute! I just knew my creators wouldn't love me anymore! They'd forget, and just care about. . .about. . .Skywarp. . .

I growled in the cold, hugging myself and forcing my helm not to turn back and look if si-si or care-care were fallowing me. I already knew they weren't.

And as it turns out, I was right. About Skywarp, about my creators, about _everything_.

* * *

_**In the Journal of Me **_

_**-Mirage**_

2.

_Growing up an Angel with a Demon for a Brother_

_July 26th, Era 8: 27,391. . . Yougling: 6_

I had a nice life once. My care-care and si-si loved me, payed attention to me, wanted me. That all changed the day Skywarp arrived at our doorstep. We had no idea where he came from, who had left him behind. I don't even know why my creators wanted to keep him. But they did, and I had no say in the matter.

Skywarp wasn't an infant, he was already up "walkin' and talkin',". That wasn't true. He only ever talked in weird gurgles, strange clicks, and odd babbles of gibberish. "Seeker-cant," care-care called it, but I didn't think it any sort of actual language. Just sparkling-talk. Real languages have distinguishable words, not some mix of awkward sounds. But he did walk. And run. And fly.

Well. . .hover, would be a better word.

Chaos, I know, would have been a better designation for little 'Warp, for that's what he did:

_Warp._

One cold, December's day, about a vorn after he was officially adopted, care-care asked me to watch him for a few minutes while she prepared Energon-treats for my per-academy fair. (Soon enough I'd be out of sparkling-school, and into real-school!)

Surprisingly, I didn't mind too much. I was colouring by the fire, and Skywarp was in his cage. Technically, it was a crib. Softened bars and all. But it had a top, a _lid_. A regular crib was no good, as my creators discovered one fateful afternoon when Skywarp went "missing" for the first time, it needed to have a ceiling to stop him from either climbing or flying out. So rendering that, yes, I thought it looked rather like a cage. Not that I was complaining. Skywarp was a wretched little monster. He got into everything- _epically_ my stuff. And a beastly creature like that belongs in a prison.

But I noticed something was off when care-care went back into the kitchen. It was quiet.

See, Skywarp hated the cage. And I mean, _hated _it. He banged on the bars, cried when we didn't let him out, and screamed when he was left in there too long for his liking. For some reason, he never recharged in the crib, either. Not unless the lid was off. Otherwise he'd lie on his wings, starring at the top - probably fearing it would fall.

I looked up, and there he was sitting, a concentrated (disgruntled) look mashing his features. I dismissed it that he was probably about to have another oil-leak. Ugh. He was _such_ a sparkling.

When care-care walked back in, she froze. "Mirage!" she suddenly hissed, whirling towards me with death in her optics.

"What?" I squeaked, feeling very small and confused.

"Where is he!?"

I was so confused, it took me many seconds to finally gasp and turn towards the cage.

Skywarp was gone.

The panic, blame, and accusations that fallowed were unprecedented. My creators were yelling, furious that I had let him out. "I didn't! I didn't!" I swore, and it was only when we found him, munching on rust-sticks, settled with a full tank on the top shelf in the kitchen, that they calmed down a little. Si-si reached for the little devil, to pluck him down, but then the creepiest, most unexpected thing happened.

Skywarp shrieked when he saw si-si reaching for him, obviously thinking the smuggled treats would be taken away, (they would've) so with a _pop_, and a cloud of purple smoke, he _disappeared._

That was the day we discovered Skywarp was a telaporter.

The night rolled around, and whilst I was supposed to be in berth, I leant my audio to the door to the living room. Care-care and si-si were arguing, heatedly, and with a jolt I moved away, not able to listen to my creators (my once-wonderful creators who got along no-matter what) bicker so horribly with each other! This never happened. Not before Skywarp showed up. And I realized, that he was the reason for the fight.

I couldn't make anything out from behind the door, not really, and I was too scared to what I would hear if I leant in and listened.

"Mirror?" I heard the Destroyer himself call softly.

I whipped around, optics ablaze, stance ridged. Skywarp stood at the foot of the stairs, a stuffy choking under one arm, a servo whipping his dim eyes. "Mirror?" He cooed again. That was the one real word he ever said, "Mirror," everything else was meaningless gibberish.

"What are you doing awake?" I hissed, taking threatening steps towards him.

Skywarp didn't seem to notice, and merely starred at me with a dazed expression as he once again started speaking in sparkling-talk.

I sighed, and roughly took his arm, taking him quickly up the stairs as the sounds of the argument began to fade. Care-care and si-si wouldn't have been too happy if they discovered us up and about. Or me, really. Care-care would just plop Skywarp back in berth.

Next morning, I came down the stairs with a frown on my faceplate. Hopping into my chair, I took up my cube without a word to my carrier. (Who was taking care of Skywarp.) When I quickly finished, I moved to prop my chair to the counter, climbing up to the top shelf to reach for the rust-sticks. It was a weekend, I was aloud one after morning fuel.

I left the kitchen with a scowl on my face, optics bright with anger.

He had emptied the whole, entire jar. I never forgave him.

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

_June 9th, Era 8: 32,538. . . Yougling: 11 _

Despite how they despised me so, I was the perfect son.

I was home on time, I never stayed out past dark, I finished my homework, I listened as best I could, I obeyed fully and completely- learning never to interrupt, speak outwardly or rudely, and to respect others wishes as long as they do not contradict what you think or know is right. I'd say the only thing I _wasn't _good at, was tattle-taling on Skywarp. No one likes a tattle-tale. But I discovered that in certain situations, it was simply best to run for the teacher, _not_ to engage in a fight. And yet I almost never did when it came to him. Never tried to stop him, never did this or that, blah blah blah.

Since the time Skywarp learned to speak properly, (though, he never did forget his baby-speech, but I'll get to that later) he had always played tricks. He was, and is, a full-blooded prankster.

We are exact opposites. Though sure I may occasionally find amusement in a harmless prank, he is quite simply: insane.

He screws up, he gets in to all sorts of trouble, he backtalk, he rebels, he fails in studies, he's violent, arrogant, _impossible! _He's the worst brother _ever, _and yet, they forgave him.

Carrier and sire. They let him get away with it all. Every. Single. Time.

Care-care told me that Skywarp is only two frame-cycles younger than me, but he acts like in impetulant child. And every time he makes a mess, what does he get? A scolding, sure. And a spanking every now and then if the deed was _really _bad, but when it comes to his infuriating idiocy, my creators have endless patience. Sire takes time to explain things, help him, be the parent I always wished he was with me. Carrier is stern, but loves him unconditionally.

In my opinion, they let him get away with everything. And is the brat grateful or happy? No! He takes it all for granted! Despite the millions of talks, lectures, and groundings, he still disobeys, causes a ruckus, and _gets into my stuff!_ Skywarp is forgiven for all of that.

But what would happen, per-say, if _I_ were to strike out? Lose my grades? Get in fights?

My creators, I am quite certain, would murder me.

Figuratively, of course, but the endless stares of "disappointment," would be hell. And then of course sire would pay me some attention. Simply to lecture and belittle me.

I love my creators, as flawlessly as I can. I do as the ask, and act as they please. I'm their puppet child, and they don't give a rat's aft about me, my accomplishments, or anything! They just care about Skywarp! Even if he doesn't care about them!

It's true! Who took him in? Who raised him? Who brought him from that miserable creature that appeared on our doorstep, and turned him into an actual Cybertronian? They did! And he doesn't even call them, "creators." They are, "Mr. and Mrs. Windwood."

He talks about his supposed "real" creators, not often, and not in front of carrier and sire, but I hear him mutter about them now and again. I, as any sensible person would, try to ask why he would even bother them a thought when he was so carelessly abandoned, but he only ever says rather cryptically, "It's complicated."

I try to ignore him, but it's his brothers that he talks about most, freely and openly too. Skywarp is more than likely making it all up, but he claims he still remembers them, knows their names, and wishes he could see them again. Carrier and sire are by no means concerned by this. Not at all concerned that their favourite son doesn't even consider them his family, but it's what he tells me when they're not around that ticks me. Or. . .what he tries to tell me. I never waste time listening.

He goes on and on about a crown on a pedestal that the younger of his two big brothers always took him to see. I don't know what any of it means, because he starts talking in the gibberish he spoke when he first arrived.

He never forgot it. He doesn't write it, and doesn't know or remember much, but he never let go of the so-called "Seeker-cant," which irritates me to no end. He doesn't let go of things easily, I find. He clings to objects that represent memories, both good and bad, and his room is stuffed with odds and ends.

I hate ever having to share quarters with him, which we so often do because we always go to the cottage for a week during school-break. As I've mentions, he's loud and obnoxious, hardheaded and simpleminded. I can't stand him and his one-track ways. He honestly sees everything just the way it can be put simplest.

"No," he told me once, in another a hot summer we were forced to share a room. "I hate you, buuuuut, since we're brothers, I love you, too." He did allot of things like this. Would say one thing one moment, than combine it with its exact opposite the next.

He makes no sense. Ever. And on that particular day, I decided to tell him. "You cannot hate and love someone!" I retorted fiercely, determined to set his warily mind strait.

"Sure you can!" Skywarp grinned, hoping back on his berth. "Just like how I can't stand you, but I love you anyway."

Growing increasingly frustrated with his backwards and contradicting statements, I through my hands into the air, shouting. "No! You! DON'T! You see the world all black and white! EVERYTHING is love or hate, enemies or allies, if you will. You- of all incredulous people- can't POSSIBLY be capable of having any sort of complex feelings towards anything! You're stupid and you contradict yourself at every turn! Don't you know what a waste of time that is?"

"B-but-"

"NO BUTS!" I roared, losing my absolute mind. "You said it yourself. Phoenix and Cyrus -MY creators- aren't YOUR creators! WE. ARE. NOT. YOUR. FAMILY."

Tears pooled in his sunken red eyes. "I-I guess but you're-"

I don't know where it came from. But I couldn't stop myself from finally screeching, "I AM NOT YOUR BROTHER! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! **I HATE YOU!**"

I don't exactly remember why I couldn't keep my emotions in, but I do remember that day, because it was the day, so far the one and only day, when carrier hit me. The slap stung, but it was the impossibility of the action that made the tears streak down my face. I looked up at her with stunned eyes. She did not appear sorry, shocked, or bewildered that she could have done such a thing. And si-si didn't appear the least little bit concerned. No. He glared, furious at me. . . Me. His blood-son. . . His perfect son. . .

They both hated me. I saw it in the smoldering glower my sire shot me as he rushed after Skywarp, and the unhidden, unrelenting rage in my carriers optics.

They hated me. . .

I experienced a certain. . .absence as I reserved the worst scolding of my existence, several spankings, and a bar of cleanser stuck in my intake for one whole minute to wash the dirty words I screamed away. Their speeches didn't quite reach me, it was as if they floated right through my processor; in one audio, out the other.

All I knew was that I was to say I was sorry, and that I didn't feel the least bit guilty about the low angle of Skywarp's ebony wings, or the miserably expression on his faceplate.

"I'm," the words caught in my throat, and it was painful to ground out a "sorry." Because I wasn't sorry. Quite the opposite. He got me in trouble. He made my creators- my creators. Not his - hate me. Just for telling the hard truth! I hated him, still do, but care-care just wouldn't have it. So there I was. Apologizing.

A moment of silence passed, Skywarp's expression didn't change until; "Oh, that's fine!" He then hugged me in a crushing embrace. I gaped, processor halting, and all I could croak out was a pathetic,

"What?"

"You're my bro!" He hugged my tighter. "I can't stay mad at you!" He then drew us apart, and grinned so wide I thought his face would split in half. I hoped not, though. Because somehow Skywarp's Obnoxious Traite #34 - grinning like a mad-mech - would be my fault. And I was in enough trouble that day.

I wish I could remember what had set me off, (perhaps it was the heat, or the long drive up,) but all I know, was that I despised my so-called "brother," all the more for his forgiving-ness. I knew how to handle anger. Every day of my life I had kept and cradled mine down in my core up until that point. But this was just. . .weird.

* * *

_**In the Journal of Me **_

_**-Mirage**_

3.

_Acceptance into Secret Service Spy School: Special Ability Sector_

_August 21st, Era 8: 35,471. . . Yougling: 13 _

I had just entered my mechteen vorns when I discovered my invisibility ability. It was on my very construction date, actually. The strangest sensation took over my frame, and with a _whoop_ I shimmered into the backgrounds. Carrier registered my ability in the Autobot database, just as it is required, and I figured life would go on as always, _far_ from perfection of my talents, and even farther from wanting to bother with the "gift."

But it was that one afternoon that changed everything.

Skywarp and myself were preparing for the up-coming school-vorn when a letter arrived in the mail. Our relationship hadn't improved at all, in my opinion (if anything it had worsened) but when carrier called from the living room, "Boys!" we hurried over in an odd sort of unison.

Though Skywarp is younger than me, he's taller, and as we stumbled down the hall, he was the one to push me out of the way to rush into the living room. I growled, dusted off, and walked in with as much dignity as I dared, pretending that I had not just been shoved to the ground. "What is, carrier?" I asked, taking notice of the still looks on both my brother and mother.

Skywarp was the one to speak. "We're. . .in. . . We're. . .we're going."

"What?" I asked, taking quick steps over. "In what? Where are we going?"

Carrier had a far away look of fear in her optics. "The school. . .army. . .SAS. . ."

"What?" I asked, terribly confused. We were going to an army school? I shook off the thought- it was impossible.

Carrier read the letter- some of it, anyway,- out-loud. "_Young mechs Mirage and Skywarp Windwood have been accepted into the Autobot's, Secret Service Spy School, in the Special Ability Sector, for their rare talents of Invisibility and Telaportation. . ._" She looked to me, horror in her eyes.

I couldn't speak, stunned. This. . .wasn't happening. It was a dream. A bad one. No. . .No!

"Bro. . ." Skywarp's worried voice somehow reached me. "We're being drafted."

I wanted to disappear. I almost tried. But I didn't. Because if there was one thing I knew about the Autobot Army, was that Special Academies like these were non-negotiable.

* * *

**Well that's the prologue. Sh**ty I know, but that's that. No idea when, or even if, I'll update again. I apologize for any spelling errors. I hope you enjoyed. Peace out! :3**

**~Scarlet**


End file.
